


Cops & Artists

by C_AND_B



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-18 06:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5901226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_AND_B/pseuds/C_AND_B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You maintain that it’s not really graffiti. It’s more graffiti adjacent. You had technically painted on a wall that wasn’t your property, but it was a very shitty, downtrodden wall and it wasn’t like you’d painted a dick or something."</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>Clarke painted a mural for her girlfriend but kinda, maybe got caught by a police officer who looks suspiciously familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You maintain that it’s not really graffiti. It’s more graffiti adjacent. You had technically painted on a wall that wasn’t your property, but it was a very shitty, downtrodden wall and it wasn’t like you’d painted a dick or something. You’re actually really proud of how it turned out. You’re not so proud of getting caught – that was something you probably should have avoided (you were going to get so much shit from your parents). Your friends had also completely ditched you the moment the cops came, well, you say ditched, you all ran but they ran faster, which makes little to no sense since Octavia had lifted an injured Raven into her arms at the sound of the siren and still managed to beat all of you in escaping.

That’s the reason you’re currently sitting in the back of a police car, on what your parents would call a _school night_ , explaining yourself to a Detective Woods - who looks completely miffed that _this_ is what he trained for, but oddly like a cuddly bear when he smiles at each of your retorts. There was also something undeniably familiar in his demeanour that you just couldn’t quite place. Sitting in said police car was also the reason your newly affirmed girlfriend was going to kill you, since you were undoubtedly grounded after this whole debacle, and wouldn’t be able to go to dinner to meet her parents on Thursday.

Basically, you were screwed.

“Could we just pretend I wasn’t doing that thing that I was supposedly doing and you drop me off where you found me? You don’t even have to stop; I’ll just drop and roll.” To his credit he laughs at your idiocy instead of sighing and moaning about you being a delinquent. You like to think it’s because he appreciated your artistic talent, though you have a feeling it probably has something to do with him being a dad himself, if the photo of a little girl on his dashboard is anything to go by, and not wanting to be unnecessarily dickish to kids (unlike that Lieutenant Jaha jackass that comes into school to do talks on drugs).

“It was vandalism.” You scoff.

“You wound me, Detective. I destroyed nothing, I created new life.” He laughs again and you chuckle along after a moment’s deliberation because you may as well resign yourself to this fate. On the Brightside, all you had to do was bring Lexa to the wall and she’d soften in an instant once she realised it was her face you’d immortalised with swirling vines climbing her neck and awe in her eyes as she stared at the stars. She’d probably hit you first and tell you to stick to sketchbooks next time, but you know she’d kiss you afterwards in a silent admission that she thought it was beautiful and that would be enough. You just needed to make it past the angry silence and avoidance that was bound to start it all off.

“It was really quite magnificent.” He concedes.

“Then you’ll let me go?” You ask hopefully but catch his eye roll in the mirror.

“No.”

“What if I explained it to you?”

“The painting or your reason for doing it?” He asks and thinking about it for a second you realise something.

“Both, it’s the same thing really.” He deliberates for a second but then he’s nodding obviously enough for you to see. “Love.” You state cryptically and the way he shifts in his seat tells you that you’ve definitely piqued his interest.

“Love?” He prompts when you don’t continue immediately.

“Painting girl, let’s call her _Heda_ , isn’t such a fan of talking about emotions. It actually took me three months to get her to realise I was hitting on her.” He laughs. “I know right. Anyway, ever since then I figured I should just show her, rather than trying and failing to tell her. It sounds cheesy and if I actually said it out loud I know she’d laugh at me, but she always gets this smile when I do it so I keep going, hence the insanely large and time consuming painting.”

“Maybe you kept going a little too far.” He jokes and you once again remind yourself that this whole thing could be worse. Although you’re also acutely aware that you’re closing in on the station and you’re not all that ready to face the reality of the situation.

“Oops.” You jest and he laughs whole heartedly. It’s a laugh you’ve heard before, slipping from Lexa’s lips when she finally cracks under the weight of your incessant jokes – the kind of freeing laugh that comes from holding it in too long and having no choice but to let it abruptly break free, which brings you back to the whole ‘ _you’re in deep crap’_ thing, especially as you pull up to the station. “Not a good enough excuse to get me off the hook then?”

“You’re off my hook but I am going to have to call your parents to pick you up.”

“Seriously?” He nods simply as he exits the car and helps you out just after. “I would hug you but I think I’ve probably pushed my luck a little too much already.”

“You have no idea.” He mutters and you’re completely confused until you reach, what you assume is, his desk and hear a voice.

“Hey, dad.” You know that voice. _You know that voice_. You step out from behind Detective Woods’ back and immediately face palm. Woods. His last name was legitimately Woods, they looked scarily alike and you’d spent an inordinate amount of time comparing him to your girlfriend and yet it didn’t click with you. You’re an idiot. “Clarke?”

“Hey, Lex. You look nice, going somewhere?” Just act casual.

“Dinner... with my dad.” She looks suspiciously between the two of you as he holds back a laugh and you repress a groan at the sheer awkwardness of this situation. You had confessed your love to her dad before you had even done it to her. You called her _Heda_ and Lord knows you saved that for more _intimate_ situations. If the ground could just open up and swallow you, you would really appreciate it. “Clarke, what are you doing here?”

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” She blushes. You almost naively think you could get away with it.

“Clarke, why are you in the police station with my dad?”

“You know, Lex, the way you say my name is really-“The detective cuts in.

“She was vandalising public property.” Throwing you under the bus. Real nice.

“I thought we discussed this.” You state. He rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless.

“Oh, of course. What I meant to say was she painted a giant mural of your face on the side of a derelict building.” You grin sheepishly because you can’t exactly protest that one. It was pretty giant. It had also taken you ages because no one else seemed to have a lick of artistic talent, and were instead just throwing paint at each other, as you tried to recreate a masterpiece. The soft gaze that lands on you, in spite of the eye roll she begins it with, makes you want to high five her dad.

“I can take her home and then be right back for dinner?” He acquiesces and you allow yourself a content smile as she catches your hand with another eye roll. How on earth did you not link the two of them? “Come on, criminal.” She says affectionately as she begins to lead you to the parking lot.

“Don’t break any more laws before dinner on Thursday, Clarke.” You wince as you remember. Dinner. That was going to be swell.

“Roger that, Mr Detective Woods.” You salute and laugh when he actually returns it.

“Gustus is fine.”

“OK, Gustus.” You don’t see his smile as Lexa tugs on your hand and all but drags you to her car. To say you’re surprised when she pushes you against it and kisses you would be no word of a lie. Not that you’re complaining. Her hands slip under your shirt. Definitely not complaining. Especially when she does that thing with her tongue and whimpers when you spin your positions.

“We should probably go before my dad realises I’m not taking you home.” She doesn’t stop kissing you.

“He’s doesn’t know how far away I live.” You don’t stop kissing her.

“That’s true.” She pulls back with a soft brush of her nose against yours but lingers in your space. “You painted me a mural.” She states and you haven’t opened your eyes but you can feel the smile on her lips as it scrapes along the skin of your jaw. “I love you too.” Your heart halts. It resumes with a skipping beat that you’ve come to associate with her.

“Good because I was so close to getting arrested for that.” You decide it was definitely worth it when she kisses you until you can’t breathe.

Although you will admit it’s slightly less worth it that Thursday when her dad asks, with a knowing smile, just how far away you live.


	2. The Prequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those torturous months in which Clarke tried to get Lexa to realise she was hitting on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people asked for a continuation of sorts and I find I'm quite fond of you all so here you go.

You have a crush on Lexa Woods. Rephrase. You have a _giant_ crush on Lexa Woods and you’re not afraid to admit it, at least, you’re not afraid to admit it to yourself. Openly admitting it to your friends is a whole other matter because you’d never hear the end of it.

It started two months ago - not that you hadn’t been acutely aware that she was hot before that. You always thought Lexa was hot but she always seemed a kind of unattainable, moody hot. You used to think that she was nothing more than glares, work and soccer. You used to not put much thought into her at all until two months ago when something flipped between you, until two months ago when you realised that she was a work of art. She wasn’t just beautiful or untouchable, she was complex and intricate.

She made you feel something.

It started when you found her hiding in the art closet. You hadn’t been able to stop yourself from questioning why she was shifting nervously in the dark between paints and pencils. You hadn’t been able to stop the smile that spread across your lips as she nervously explained that her friend Luna had been trying to confess her attraction to her all day and Lexa, who felt too bad to turn her down, had instead jumped head first into avoidance. You hadn’t been able to not find her adorable.

You pulled her from her hiding space and into the classroom, offering to be her lookout only a minute later. You made some joke or another about her not needing to be in the closet around you and she’d blushed. Your crush dawned on you later that night when you tried to sleep and all you could see were green eyes and a lithe frame awkwardly stumbling through the art room door in a hasty escape.

You kept seeing more of her since then. You weren’t sure if it was just because you were suddenly more aware of her presence, or if your feet were deciding to walk in any direction they believed she would be. Considering you had actually decided to go to a soccer game for the first time in your life, you figure it had something to do with your thoughts not being able to take form without collecting some piece of her.

Your dad had laughed when you said you were going to the game before he realised you were serious and bombarded you with questions. Raven had smirked knowingly but agreed to go with you nonetheless (probably to figure out which set of legs you spent the most time ogling).

Turns out Raven didn’t need to watch you very hard at all because Lexa catches your eye the moment she steps onto the pitch and her bashful wave forces a grin onto your face before you can catch it.

“I get it now.”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t worry, Griff. You’re little crush on the commander over there can remain between you and I.” You stare at her disbelieving for a moment because, yeah, you and Raven have been best friends since the first day of school when Finn Collins had tried to steal your crayons and she’d tripped him up before sitting by your side and guarding them for the rest of the day. But, Raven had been smitten with Octavia since around about that time too and there was no way she was going to keep this a secret from her (which was the real problem because Octavia loved gossip).

“I swear to God, Reyes, if you tell O-“

“Hello, Clarke.” A voice interrupts. You hate the shiver that trembles through your spine without warning at the sound of your name. You had never been particularly fond of your name until the other day when it had slipped from Lexa’s lips alongside a small thank you. From that point you had pretty much decided your name was your favourite word.

“Hey, Lexa.” You respond before you’ve even fully turned to her, pointedly ignoring the wink Raven throws your way. She’s smiling softly when you finally catch her eye and it honestly takes everything you have inside of you to not let your gaze drift to her seemingly endless legs in those shorts.

“I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I thought since you were broadening your horizons to the art room, I should return the favour. Plus, I’ve been told you’re quite good and I wanted to experience it for myself.” You wink but she doesn’t blush like you’d expect, she doesn’t even flinch. In fact, she doesn’t really respond at all to the obvious flirt in your tone or the flicker of your eyes across her form when you just can’t help yourself.

“I’ve been playing since I was five so I should hope so.” A whistle and the cutting voice of the coach calling for the team is what cuts through the silence formed between the two of you. She startles for a second and drops the stare the two of you had been wordlessly holding. “I have to go but it was nice to see you, Clarke.”

“Likewise.” You reply pointlessly as she runs down the bleachers and back to the game at hand.

“Is she a nun?” Raven quips once she’s disappeared. “I mean, if I was single and you dropped that husky tone on me I’d be all up on that, but she didn’t even blink.” You don’t reply. You don’t even think you can reply. She didn’t even seem to realise what was going on and it wasn’t like you’d decided to wear the world’s most revealing shirt because it was nice weather out.

You were just going to have to up the ante.

* * *

 

It wasn’t going well.

She was sweet, and oddly funny, and strikingly pretty and it wasn’t going well.

You’d been randomly paired for a history project, which seemed great for the split second in which she looked at you from across the room and you witnessed the smile in her eyes despite her perpetually stoic look on the rest of her face, but quickly made you panic as you realised you were going to have to spend time together. Outside of school. With no people around you as back up.

Thankfully, two hours into her being in your home you hadn’t done anything ridiculous (discounting the dirty joke you had made about thirty seconds in before she’d even taken her coat off). You sat side by side on your bed as you searched for the relevant information on your laptop and sent it for her to look over and put on your presentation.

It was nice.

Probably a little too nice because you could feel yourself getting comfortable. You could feel yourself becoming accustomed to the soft pressure of her arm against yours and the gentle shifts of her body as she typed. You were barely paying attention to your own laptop anymore, at this point it had just become you periodically staring at your screen to break up the time spent watching her fingers deftly press keys (because heck if she didn’t have the  kind of hands that would at least make people debate lesbianism).

It’s definitely too nice because you can feel yourself falling asleep, and your head is dropping to her shoulder before you can even think to question the gesture. She tenses momentarily before her body relaxes and you feel her neck twist to look down at you from your perch.

“You always fall asleep in history class too.” She remarks in such a way that you know she’s smiling even if you can’t see her face. The fact that you can tell is how you know this _thing_ is becoming more than some stupid high school crush.

“I just think we should leave the past in the past.”

“But how are we supposed to learn and evolve if we do not educate ourselves on our past mistakes?”

“There will always be people arrogant and ignorant enough to believe, despite what history tells them, that they can do the same thing and achieve different results. So we might as well just give this up and have extra nap time.” She laughs slightly and it reverberates through your bones. You can’t help but lift your head to watch the way her head tips back slightly as she indulges the lyrical sound, or the bob of her throat as it echoes. She’s beautiful. _So God damn beautiful._

“You’re certainly an enigma, Clarke Griffin.” She notes as her laughter subsides and she finally regards your wandering gaze.

“And you’re not, Lexa Woods?”

“Touché.” You’re staring at her lips. You know you’re staring at her lips. You should stop looking. You know that you should stop looking, but then you’d actually have to summon some semblance of will power, and you’re honestly putting all of that into stopping yourself from kissing her.

You want to kiss her. You can literally think of nothing else you want to do more than kiss her until she can’t breathe, until the only utterance from her lips is your name drowning in lust and reverence. “Are you alright, Clarke? You look a little flushed, perhaps you have a fever?”

“Oh no, I’m fine thanks, Lex.” She nods acceptingly, sending a small smile your way as she turns back to her laptop.

You should’ve just kissed her.

She surely couldn’t be oblivious to your tongue in her mouth.

* * *

 

She’s sweaty.

You’re weak.

You are so very weak and all you can see are droplets cascading down her neck, dripping onto a panting chest as she gasps for air. It’s not the first time your head has been filled with such an image - it’s just the first time that it had actually been real and you hadn’t suddenly woken up drenched in your own sheen of sweat.

“Clarke, you’re early.”

“Waiting here seemed better than sitting in the library being simultaneously ogled by freshman and judged by the librarian because I’m not actually doing any work.” Also, you knew Lexa would be out on the field running laps like her life depended on it and that was obviously the better option.

“Who has been ogling you?” She questions with a furrowed brow and you would say she was jealous if you didn’t know any better, if you weren’t completely sure that Lexa didn’t harbour any feelings of the romantic kind towards you.

“No one of merit.”

“I can stop them if you’d like. Someone once told me I can be quite intimidating before she laughed at me for hiding in a closet.” You grin at the smirk on her lips.

“It’s harmless and who can blame them really when I’m giving them so much to work with?” You wiggle your eyebrows suggestively and you expect something, anything - a blush, an uneasy grin, maybe an unconscious scan of your body but she does nothing.

“I should go shower and then we can finish going over the presentation?” You nod mutely as she goes about collecting her things and walking towards the locker room.

“Let me know if you need a hand.”

“I appreciate your concern, Clarke, but I think I’ve figured out how to shower by now.” She smirks and it’s the closest thing you’ve gotten to a response so far. You blame that fact for the smile that remains firmly on your face for the next two hours instead of admitting it’s because of the furrow in Lexa’s brow when she reads or the small smile of satisfaction she releases when she finds the perfect phrasing.

You refuse to admit that you may be falling a little bit in love with Lexa Woods.

It’s just a crush.

It’s just a-

* * *

 

It’s not just a crush.

Probably because she isn’t a normal girl. A normal girl wouldn’t make you physically stop and stare in the middle of a party just because she was wearing incredibly tight jeans and had braided her hair in a different way. A normal girl wouldn’t make your heart somersault just because she smiled at you for the briefest of seconds. A normal girl wouldn’t be the subject of nearly every single sketch you’d done since you had properly met them.

“You know you could just actually talk to her.” You jump.

“Jesus, O, warn a girl next time.”

“I didn’t exactly sneak over here. You’re just too busy drooling over tall, dark and commanding over there.” You can’t deny it. Honestly, you won’t even try to deny it because you know it’s obvious. Your crush on Lexa is about as subtle as the Empire State building and at this point you weren’t even trying to hide it - partially because with her it seemed like you didn’t even have to. She missed it all on her own.

“I think I might need, like, five more drinks in me before I even attempt to go talk to her.”

“Because drunk Clarke is so much more eloquent and alluring than sober Clarke?” She asks with a laugh and you know she’s right. You know that when you’re drunk you say stupid things and forget about personal space boundaries and kiss people without thinking of the repercussions. Drunk Clarke is somewhat of a mess but maybe a disinhibited mess is exactly what you need to be.

Five drinks later you’re kind of regretting your decisions. At least, you’re regretting them as much as you can despite not really having the capacity to think about anything all that well. Your regret primarily stems from the fact that you’re stumbling over to Lexa, and you can practically feel the amused smirk she’s aiming at you as you put all of your concentration into walking in a semi straight line.

“Your body is seventy-five percent water and I’m thirsty.” Is the first thing that slips from your lips when you make your way to her side and you can hear your blood rushing through your ears as she tilts her head to regard you curiously.

“We can get you some water if you’d like. It seems like you might need it.”

“No, I-“ You shake your head violently as you try to collect your thoughts. “Your dad must be a drug dealer ‘cause you’re dope.” Not exactly Shakespeare but they were words.

“He’s actually a detective.” She comments as she shifts further into your space to rest her hand against your forehead. You sigh at the refreshing coolness of her skin which only serves to deepen the concern written plainly on her face. “Are you feeling alright, Clarke?”

“I’m fine, but not as _fine_ as you.” She seems to mull over the comment for a second before nodding minutely and responding.

“Well I haven’t had that much to drink.” This was honestly the most ridiculous experience you’d ever had. Even the last sober remnant of you was fairly sure the only thing left for you to do to make her realise you were hitting on her would be to kiss her. Except then she’s leading you to get a glass of water and you’re tripping over with every step you take and you know that tonight isn’t the night.

You want to remember kissing her twice as much as you just want to do it.

* * *

 

 

You’re tired of waiting. Although, you wouldn’t really call it waiting - it was more you constantly trying to make Lexa aware of your feelings without actually having to say the words, because you were maybe a little scared, and then her completely misunderstanding you because you hadn’t said the actual words and she was apparently an inexperienced nerd.

You grab your sketchbook hastily on your way out of your house. You side eye it fearfully for the entire drive over to her house because you’ve decided if you can’t tell her, you’ll have to show her but it could go very wrong. You could find out that this entire time she was just pretending not to notice because she didn’t want to have to turn you down. Maybe this whole thing had been your Luna art closet hiding experience. Maybe this was going to be a huge mistake.

You’re practically sweating by the time you knock on her door. You’re legitimately sweating when she opens it up in sweatpants and a t-shirt because she’s comfortable enough around you now to do that. It was only weeks ago that she refused to wear anything less than business casual in your presence and now here she was looking adorable and soft and cosy.

You’re gonna do it.

You have to do it.

Have you had better plans? Yes.

Have you had worse plans? Certainly.

Were you going to change your mind and chicken out? Definitely not.

She sits down at her desk as soon as the two of you make it to her bedroom and you falter for a brief second before you stalk over to her and forcefully drop your sketchbook directly into her line of sight. Perplexed would be the most accurate word to describe how she eyes the spiral bound book before she catches your eyes in an equally confused manner.

“What’s this?”

"Open it." You respond emphatically and she gives a quick nod before turning back to the item in question and lifting the front page. You revel in the small gasps that tumble from her mouth because you know what she’s finding with each new turn of the page. You know that page after page is filled with sketches of her. Her eyes, her hands, her lips, her hair. _Her. Her. Her_. “I’ve been flirting with you for three months and I was going to wait for you to catch on but I’m apparently not all that patient.”

“You’ve been – _Oh._ ” She blinks. Once. Twice. Three times. You can’t hear yourself think in the deafening silence.

"I'm sorry if this is super awkward. I just haven't stopped thinking about you since I found you hiding in the between the art supplies, being all cute and sweet despite all the previous ideas I may have had about you."

"An Ark Hospital sweatshirt." She whispers simply and then it’s your turn to be confused.

"What?"

"On the first day of school freshman year, you wore an Ark Hospital sweatshirt. You sat beside me in English and gave me this smile but I just stared at you because I couldn't get my lungs to breathe let alone my mouth to move and I felt like an idiot for three hours after the fact.” She stops to take a shaky breath, running her hands nervously through perfectly pristine tresses.  “What I'm saying is - that I didn't notice that you were flirting because the idea of _you_ actually wanting _me_ just seems a little ridiculous."

"Well I do. Want you, that is." She smiles as she drops her gaze back to the book resting in her hands.

"I can see that. These are very good but-"

"But what?"

"I think you might need some new material." You’re not sure what you expected to come of this whole thing. You do know that you never in your wildest dreams expected her to stand from her desk chair and pull her shirt off in one swift motion.

Not that you’re complaining.

You don’t think anyone could possibly complain when faced with such a sight. You’d visited more galleries than you could count. You’d seen so called masterpiece after masterpiece, and yet, you don’t think you had ever seen anything as beautiful as her. You realise you’ve been staring too long when she shifts uneasily on her feet and it jolts you back into reality, the fact that something so perfect could be so insecure.

"Got any more new ideas for me?" You husk, stepping into her space and dancing your fingertips along the hem of her pants.

"I might. I think I need a little inspiration of my own though." You hastily throw your own shirt in some direction or another to the soundtrack of her laughter before you deftly lift her from the floor and to her bed.

"How's that for inspiration?" You question with a smirk, basking in the thundering of her heart against yours as you rest between her ever tightening thighs.

"I've never had so many, and so little, thoughts at once."

"Good." You mumble against her lips. When her lips meet yours properly in the next breath you decide that you’ve never really been more thankful for art, or your apparent inability to stop your hands from pouring your heart onto the page. As Lexa kisses you with gentle touches but assured devotion you can’t help but think you would do anything for her.

Heck, you’d paint her face on every surface in the city just to see her smile.


End file.
